My Reason
by The Lady J
Summary: Hermione's life isn't at all what she thought it would be. Her husband is abusive, she's in love with someone else and pretty much life just sucks because she can't change it. But perhaps, someone else can.
1. Chapter 1

My Reason by Jaspers Dark Angel

"Draco," His mother called, "There's a filthy house elf here to see you, it's wearing a dress." The disdain for the creature was clear in Narcissa's voice. Yet Draco paid it no attention, the mention of the house itself was enough to cause him grief. There was only one house elf that wore clothing that would show up looking for him, and if she was there, that meant trouble.

"Pixie," Draco said breathlessly, for he had rushed from his study in the East wing to the sitting room on the main floor. "What is wrong," he asked landing on his knees in front of the frightened elf.

"Master Draco," Pixie squeaked, "Mistress is needing you. Mistress is hurt bad." Draco's vision started to swim at the elf's words, he grabbed her hands to steady himself and to stop her fidgeting, but that's when he noticed the dried blood. His mother's lip curled when she had noticed Draco touch the elf, not much had changed about Narcissa Malfoy after the war. She still felt many creatures were below her and ought not be treated like equals, but she had learned to keep that to herself for the most part. Her hatred of Muggle borns was not as strong as it used to be but it did not prevent her from feeling that a house elf should never be shown the kind of respect Draco was showing the filthy mongrel. She had taught him better.

"How?" He whispered.

"Mistress's husband." He didn't need her to answer the question, he knew how it had happened. He may not know exactly what was done, but he knew by whom and with what.

"She is needing you, master, I..I is not knowing how to fix her." Pixie wailed.

"Take me to her," he demanded his voice much more harsh and snappish then it normally would have been. Pixie was a good house elf, one he liked very much and trusted with only the greatest and most important tasks. A hand on his arm stopped him from moving.

"Draco, dear, it is not your place. You need to stay out of this."

He stood, looked directly into his mother's eyes and said "No, mother, I've done nothing for 5 years. It's time to fight for her." He grabbed the elf's hand and in the next second felt like he was being squeezed through a straw. Apparition was an unpleasant way to travel but the fastest and most effective and he needed efficiency in the light of what was happening.

Draco and Pixie landed in a dimly lit room. He knew this room, lit or not. It was the drawing room of the house of his best friend and his wife.

"Lumos,"He said pulling out his wand, the beam bathed the room in light.

It was a spectacular room, one he had many fond memories of, growing up, playing in the curtains with his friend, playing hide and seek under tables and as they got older, hiding under those tables drinking bottles of Ogden's Old Fire Whisky and getting thoroughly pissed. However, his memories of this room would never go back to happy and fun memories of 15 year olds defying parents after what he found.

In the middle of the room lay a body. He knew that body, though she was crumpled; broken and completely unmoving. This had been a fear of his for many years now, he had dreamt of finding her dead, lifeless body. Only one thing had changed over the years, and that was who had killed her. In his later years at Hogwarts he had dreamt and feared that she would be killed by one of Voldemort's minions, and now, years later, his fear had come true but it wasn't Voldemort that had killed her, it was his best friend. A boy he had known all his life, that he had loved like a brother. The thought made him sick. He needed to see if she was alive, he didn't believe she was dead, though he knew her husband to be capable of such things.

Draco moved lightning fast and was at her side in a matter of seconds. Her body lay unearthly still but he could hear her shallow breathing, she wasn't dead... Yet. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, maybe he could still save her. Her brown lanky curls lay matted about her face; some of the longer strands lay in a pool of blood. He brushed her hair back to see her face, her eyes were closed her face pale and worn. "Hermione." He whispered as his fingers touched her face. Even near death, she was beautiful. Her skin was so soft and smooth but the bruises marred her pretty skin. He knew he couldn't fix her, knew that even though he knew basic medical spells, having been taught them during the war, incase he was needed to heal Death Eaters, that his limited knowledge was far too limited for what was needed now.

He did know a few spells though, and what he did know he used. He had stopped the bleeding from the few cuts he could see and had healed the broken leg. When he had finished he placed her in a stasis and just sat there staring at her for a while. 5 years, that was how long he had known and done nothing–about the abuse. 5 years he sat and watched Hermione Granger, he would not refer to her by her married last name, take beating after beating. 5 years he watched her hide the abuse through spells and makeup. He watched as she pretended to love a monster, he kept a promise to her for 5 years. A promise that he would not tell Potter or Weasley but that day time was now done over. Today his silence would end, his silence had nearly killed her and it still might if the Medi wizards of 's couldn't save her but he dared not think that way. He was not going to lose her, not this way.

With Hermione in stasis, Draco was able to think. And think he did, but not only did he think about how he'd watched her for years and how the man she loved beat her, he thought about how he had watched the light in her eyes die, how he'd watched the brave strong Gryffindor lose her fight. He had watched the man she loved beat her down, from the strong brave independently outspoken woman he had known and at times hated in school, to the silent, weepy, weak shell she was now.

Oh sure, he watched her put on a brave face and pretend nothing was wrong in front of her friends, knowing all the while that she was emotionally dying inside. Sadly, Draco doubted her friends even noticed. The other 2/3rd of the golden trio were as thick as they come. He was shocked they noticed anything, so the silent suffering of their best friend, of course went unnoticed. Merlin if there was anyone that needed to know about Hermione's situation it had been Potter and the Weasel, he may not like them, but their strong gryffindorness was just what was needed.

As quick as the thought came, he jumped up, startling the sobbing elf that sat next to the motionless body of Hermione. Her blue eyes shone bright with the remnants of tears and she dabbed at her squat little nose with the end of her blood stained dress. When this was all over, Draco was going to buy her a brand new wardrobe, but until then, he needed her to do something.

"Pixie," he said, harsher than he meant to, but unapologetic he went on, "Find Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, tell them to meet me, I mean Hermione, at 's. DO NOT tell them what happened, but let them know it's bad and she needs them. They are to tell NO ONE, and Pixie, don't take no for an answer." With a small nod and a little pop the elf vanished, leaving Draco almost completely alone, save for the unconscious but still alive, unmoving form of Hermione.

He turned to look at the woman surrounded by a see-through golden bubble. Her features were slightly distorted but to him, she was still beautiful. Her skin was tan in the bubble though he knew her to be almost as pale as him. In the stasis, her face had softened and the pain was erased and replaced by smooth lines of age; the lines Draco had seen her receive over the years. At least he could take her pain away for a little bit, but for him it wasn't good enough, he wanted her to never hurt again. She deserved that much out of life. So many lies had been told over the years, pain and sorrow had become as commonplace as a smile on her face. He wanted everyone to know the truth-no more pain, no more sorrow and no more lies.

As he moved to stand next to her, his wand light caught her diamond wedding set. He looked at the rainbows on the floor that the light and the diamonds made, to someone else they would be beautiful, but they made him sick. Before he took her to 's he reached through the bubble and pulled the rings off. They held a promise that had never come true, they were in his eyes, the biggest lie of all, these pieces of metal that held so much meaning and hope within their tiny strands of gold and diamonds. By all rights, no one should place so much meaning on a stupid piece of jewelry, and yet every day, people did. Witches and Wizards bonded themselves to each other using two circles of precious metal as their proof to the world that they were spoken for, that they had someone to love and someone that loved them.

A marriage was supposed to be full of love and happiness, not pain and sorrow, but for Hermione, it had been only sorrow. From what Draco could see, there had never been any happiness, nor did he suspect that there ever would be. In the 5 and half years, that Hermione had been married, she had known no such happiness and love, though she claimed she did. He only hoped that she would realize what she told herself was, in fact, a lie and not resent Draco for what he was going to do to the man that had caused the pain in her life.

Dropping the rings to the floor Draco knew he would kill the bastard that hurt Hermione. The clatter of the rings to the ground was slightly muffled as they had landed in the pool of blood. He would make sure that no harm would come to Hermione ever again. This was a promise he made to himself, and he would not break it.

Grabbing Hermione's hand he knew it was time to get her to the hospital, her friends would be there soon and it would be a bad idea to show up after them. He disapparated. When he landed in the waiting area of 's, he shouted for help. He wasn't sure his feet even hit the floor before he started shouting.

His voice rang through the reception area as heads turned in his direction. The fear and sorrow he was feeling broke through as he called attention to his plight. He needed them to know he was there, he didn't realize how much desperation he was feeling until he heard his voice crack with panic. It felt like ages before he saw someone, but it was probably only a few seconds.

The speed at which the Medi witch and wizard reached Draco was no less than amazing. Their shoes squeaked as they came to a halt next to Draco. The Medi witches eyes went wide as she surveyed the horribleness that was Hermione's broken body.

"What happened?" she almost whispered. Draco recognized her as a Patil girl but didn't know which one. She knew Hermione, and he knew she would help. The olive skinned witch's eyes filled with tears as she looked at Draco.

"I don't know exactly what happened. I found her like this," he choked on a sob; he really didn't want to have a break down in the middle of a room full of people. "Her husband has a temper," was all he could say. Anger flashed on the wizards face, Draco knew him. Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff in the same year as Draco. They had been prefects together at Hogwarts along with Hermione and possibly the Patil girl, depending on which one she was.

"Listen," Draco continued to speak, "There is to be only a few select people that are allowed to see Ms. Granger like this. If after she wakes up, if she wishes to see other people, she may change the list. For now, only myself, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley will…"

Pop

"Get off me, you mad elf!"

"Pixie is not letting go sir, Pixie is following orders."

"Pixie!" Draco cried, turning around to see Ron struggling to get rid of the house elf, Potter stood idly next to the awkward pair looking worried, "You can let him and Potter go now." Turning back to the healers, Draco said "Please help her!" They nodded.

"We promise to keep you all up to date," Healer McMillan stated. The Healers took Hermione and walked away as Potter and Weasley walked up.

"Malfoy, what's going on? Why did your elf drag us here? She said we needed to meet Hermione. Where is she?" Harry sounded confused, which in Draco's opinion was not out of the ordinary.

For way of an answer, Draco pointed to the broken body floating away. His throat was too tight, he could hardly speak. He didn't know how to put into words what he was feeling or even how to tell Harry and Ron what had happened to their best friend.

"What!" Ron yelled, "What happened?"

"Blaise." He said through gritted teeth, in answer to Ron's question. Just his name sent waves of anger through his body. The look on both Potter and Weasley's faces told him that they understood but may not have exactly expected this.

"We've known something was wrong with Hermione for a long time, but we didn't know what," Harry said quietly. The git probably blamed himself.

"What exactly happened?" The Weasel asked again. Draco shrugged not really knowing what had happened, so he couldn't answer the questions that they wanted answered.

"Pixie came to me; she told me Hermione was badly hurt bad. When I arrived at got to the house, Hermione she was laying in a pool of blood, not moving." Pixie tugged on his robe making everyone look down.

"Master, Pixie is so sorry she couldn't save mistress." The elf wept. "Mistress's husband is very scary when he is mad. Pixie is trying to help but Pixie is not knowing how."

"Can you tell me what happened, Pixie?" Draco asked getting down on her level once again. The elf looked terrified.

"He came home in a bad mood, when Mistress asked what was wrong he threw her through the air with his wand, he didn't stop. Pixie is watching mistress hit the wall; he didn't stop until she stopped moving. All she did was ask what was wrong master Draco, she didn't even fight back!" The elf was furious "Master promise Pixie you'll kill him." Draco was shocked to hear a house elf speak like this, they were always so reserved. The two Aurors above him shifted slightly.

"If he doesn't Pixie, I will!" Weasley said with as much conviction as Draco had, he nodded.

"I promise Pixie, one way or another, Blaise Zabini will die!"


	2. Chapter 2

My Reason Ch2

Hours later, Hermione's condition was still unknown and the three most unlikely people waited together in the small waiting room of 's. Well, in all honesty, two of them did belong there waiting, it was the addition of the third that made it odd and slightly uncomfortable. Ron sat in a chair, lightly snoozing, and Harry sat by his side watching as the third man paced back and forth, fear and worry evident on his face.

That man was the one that seemed out of place, yet he also seemed to be the one who was most worried. Draco Malfoy, the man that Harry had come to not so much hate and despise as just not care about over the years, was wearing a hole in the floor because he was worried about Hermione, a girl he had tormented and treated terribly for many years.

Harry supposed people could change, he knew that they could. War had a funny way of showing you how messed up life could be, perhaps that's what had happened to Draco. He knew Draco had turned traitor but never knew why. Harry shook his head; he didn't need to know nor did he really care why Draco had switched sides. What he really wanted to know was why Draco he was in the hospital and why he was with Hermione and what did it all mean?

Getting up, he walked over to talk to the blond man and stood in his path, forcing Malfoy to stop.

"Get out of the way, Potter," Malfoy stated while absentmindedly walking around him. This behavior was so unlike Malfoy that it puzzled Harry even more. Normally Draco would love to give Harry a lashing; beat him down and call him names, but this Draco appeared to be too worried.

"Malfoy, why are you here?"

"It's my fault… it's my fault she is here," he said.

"Are you the one that attacked her?" Harry asked, knowing the answer.

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Harry with what looked like hurt in his eyes. This confused Harry because nothing he ever said hurt Malfoy before.

"Merlin, Potter, I've done some fucked up things in my life, but I would never lay a hand on her. I know in the past..." His voice trailed off. "But I've changed," he said. His voice had started out indignant but softened towards the end.

"Then how are you to blame?" Harry asked.

"I knew what Blaise was doing," he whispered. Harry nearly missed it but he caught it and it enraged him.

"YOU KNEW? You knew and you didn't stop it? Same old fucking Malfoy; you haven't changed at all, have you? I bet you liked seeing your best mate beat up on a mud-blood," Harry spat.

Malfoy's lip curled and his voiced lowered dangerously. "Do not call her that and do not presume to know anything about me Potter. You haven't been the one to help her for the last five years." Draco knew Harry had reasons to say what he said, but it hurt to be reminded of the pain he had caused Hermione over the years. To know that he had been the cause of any heartache or sorrow in her life was a source of great sadness. "She asked me not to tell," he whispered, sorrow filled his voice.

"What?" The anger in Harry evaporated, deflating him like a balloon.

"I went to visit Blaise one day, he was out, but his wife was sitting in a dark corner crying. I hadn't even noticed anyone was there, I was about to floo home when I heard her." Draco eyes glazed over as if seeing what had happened all over again.

**flashback**

"Blaise?" Draco called stepping out of the flames and dusting himself off. "Blaise?" he called again. The house was dark and Draco thought it odd that he had been let in when the Zabini's weren't home. They typically had wards up to keep people out of their home when the home was void of inhabitants. As he turned to floo home, he had heard sniffling. Clearly someone was home, that must have been why he was allowed through the fire.

The sounds of rustling caught his attention, "Hello?" he called, walking deeper into the darkness, following the sounds of sniffles and movement. He knew someone was there, even if he couldn't see them. Why were all the lights out he wondered. He had been about to pull his wand out, to light it, when the person belonging to the sniffles spoke.

"He's not home, Draco," came her voice followed by more sniffling. Draco found the source of the voice—he had known instantly who the voice belonged to—but he hadn't known where she was. When he reached the darkest corner of the room, he lit his wand and found the disheveled girl curled up in a ball, beaten, tattered and broken on the floor. Her hair was matted with sweat, her dress was torn, her left eye was swollen and purple, her lip was split and she held her arm to her chest gingerly, as if afraid to move it.

Draco's breath caught as he surveyed the headstrong girl in front of him. He didn't need to ask what had happened, he had seen his mother in a similar looking state after a particularly bad day his father had had.

"Hermione," he whispered. Flicking his wand, he sent little balls of light to the chandelier, illuminating the room. He bent down and stared at her; he had never, in his eight years of knowing her, seen her like that. She was always so strong, so brave and fearless. He had known her to be smarter than this. How, he thought, could this have happened? Something must have flashed across his face because the broken girl on the floor in front of him squared her shoulders and glared at him through her one good eye.

"Go ahead, Malfoy," she said with contempt in her voice. "Tell me I deserve this; tell me a filthy mud-blood like me deserves to have her husband beat on her and use her as a punching bag. After all, mud-bloods are nothing, right?" She bent her head and started to cry.

Stunned and hurt by her words, he just stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. Finally, dropping to his knees, he reached out and gently cupped her chin.

"I have not felt that way about you or any Muggleborn in many years, you know that. It took a very long time to break through my parents' prejudices and learn how wrong they were, but I did it and you of all people should know that the type of blood you come from means nothing to me."

He took his wand and whispered a spell; a small gash appeared on his arm, right across the dark mark. "See, Hermione, our blood looks the same, there's nothing dirty about yours and there is definitely nothing pure about mine; no one deserves to be treated the way you have been. A man should never raise a hand nor turn a wand on a woman in anger."

Hermione held his gaze for a long time; she knew how he felt about Muggleborn and that it took him a long time to overcome his upbringing. Her words had been a low blow and she was ashamed that she had said it.

"You're hurt," she said grabbing his arm. Draco shrugged, pointed his wand at the cut and whispered another spell; the tiny blight vanished, leaving the dark mark fully intact.

"Would you like me to heal you?" he asked. He didn't know why he asked as he hardly thought she was going to say no. The spells worked and physically Hermione was put back together but Draco knew that the scars of an abuse victim ran much deeper than skin.

It broke his heart to see Hermione broken the way she was; to know that she flinched at his touch, for fear of pain.

He had loved her for many years, probably longer than even he had realized, and he was going to protect her anyway he could and at any cost. Nothing was more important to Draco than her safety.

"You have to leave him, Hermione. He could kill you next time," he said, his voice pleading and slightly panicked.

"I can't Dra...Malfoy; I…I love him," she spat. Draco didn't believe her but he had learned long ago not to argue. He had seen his mother fight when people had tried to turn her against his father and make her leave him. Draco would have to be more subtle.

"Pixie," he called. With a pop, the elf landed next to him. Her appearance should not have shocked Hermione but he knew it did. She had been working for years to get S.P.E.W. off the ground but no one paid attention to or cared about how house elves were treated.

It was hard to get behind something when even the species being "oppressed" wasn't even behind. But that didn't stop Draco, it was important to her, so it was important to him. All of his elves wore clothing, were free and were paid a weekly salary. Many had questioned why he had changed the way the Malfoy have treated the help, but he had never told anyone.

"This is Pixie, Hermione, she is my personal elf," Draco said and then turned to Pixie. "Pixie, this is Hermione; I need you to take care of her. Please keep her safe." Hearing the floo in the other room come to life, Draco stood; he knew he did not have much time before Blaise came around the corner.

"Master, did Pixie do something wrong?" Draco shook his head.

"No, Pixie, you are the best elf there is; that is why I am trusting you to keep her safe." He spoke quickly and quietly, having heard Blaise step out of the fire. "Inform me of any issues, and above all else, protect her as much as you can," he said as he disapparated.

**end flashback**

"I can't believe you just left her there," Harry said, slightly outraged.

"I didn't really have a choice, Potter, if I'd stayed, I'd be in Azkaban for murder right now. There was no way I would have been able to stop myself from killing the bastard."

"How many times did your elf have to come and get you?" Harry asked as anger filled his words.

Draco's face fell and his body sagged under the weight of the pain. Harry was right, he was the same as he ever was—too scared to face the monster that was hurting the one he loved, too scared to face the consequences of his action. He had known, he could become a murderer for Hermione-something even Voldemort had never made him into- but for her, he would do almost anything. What stopped him was fear. Fear of Azkaban, but more so than anything else, fear that Hermione would hate him for the killing the person she loved. Instead, he had pretended it wasn't happening, and the only time he acknowledged it, was when it looked back at him. His elf had shown up at least once a month for five years and still Draco went about life as if nothing was happening, choosing to believe that he was helping her as much as he could but in reality, he hadn't done enough.

His legs buckled and his knees hit the floor as a single tear slid down his face; this was all his fault. Harry grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him to his feet, the look of despair on Draco's face told him the elf had visited too many times to count.

"Blimey," Harry said as he let go of Malfoy. "You really do care about her, don't you?"

It wasn't a question.

Draco turned to look at Harry, his eyes shining with tears. "I love her," he said and disapparated.

Harry stared at the spot Draco had just vanished from, brow furrowed. He could not have heard that correctly. There was no way Hermione would lie about that.

"He what?" said Ron, standing from the chair he had been dozing from. "Did he just say..."

"Yeah, Ron, I think he did."


	3. Chapter 3

chap 3

Draco wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew couldn't stay in the hospital with 2/3rd of the golden trio. He may have loved Hermione and gotten over his jealousy for Potter and his unfounded animosity for the weasel which was really just mild dislike now, but that did not mean he wanted to hang out with them. He wasn't even sure he really liked Potter and he knew he didn't like the red headed git.

He landed in a Muggle pub that he had used to frequent in his post war youth, in the hopes of staying out of the Prophet and while still being able to get thoroughly pissed. It was during those days that he had found a love for a drink called a Jager bomb.

Having ordered and downed a one within a minute of taking a seat at the bar, Draco's thoughts were able to take a somewhat darker turn. He had dreaded the coming of this day for five years. He had waited every day wondering if that day was the day his house-elf would come to him and inform him that Hermione, the only girl he had ever loved was dead.

He knew would blame himself, hell he did blame himself. He hadn't fought her on leaving Blaise, even though he asked her every time he had found her beaten and broken. Her answer was always the same and Draco knew that would never change, but it did not stop him from blaming himself for not doing more to prevent it. The only thing Draco could figure that was holding her to Blaise after years of abuse was something he had on her. He had racked his brain many times to try and figure out what Blaise could possibly know about miss goody two shoes (yes he loved her, but that didn't make him blind to the fact that Hermione was a goody two shoes) that she wouldn't want the rest of the Wizarding world to know. He had every single time, come up with nothing.

Blaise and Hermione's courtship had been fast. He hadn't even know Blaise was seeing her till the day he found them both in the flat he and the dark skinned man shared. That was the very day they had told him they were getting married. It had shocked and saddened Draco to stand as best man at their wedding. He had felt like a part of his heart was slowly dying as he watched her in a beautiful white gown turn loving eyes on Blaise and kiss him, sealing their bond.

He stood abruptly, causing the stool he had been occupying to fall to the floor with a loud clatter. The few patrons in the bar turned to see who had made the noise but Draco paid them no never mind. He knew what he had to do. He threw some Muggle money on the bar and strode out, head held high, determined for the first time in a long time, to set things right.

Apparating to his flat by way of a dark empty alley Draco turned and promptly floo'ed to the Zabini house. If it turned out that, no one was home, well that would be fine, he could snoop. Maybe he would get lucky and find what Blaise Zabini, Slytherin whore, had on the Gryffindor Princess. If Blaise was there, well, Draco had other plans.

Stepping out of the fireplace, Draco saw Blaise sitting on a chair, reading. As if his wife hadn't just hours ago been laying on the floor broken and bloody near death. Draco's vision started it shift as the room around him turned red. He was angrier than he had ever been. _So that was how this was going to go he thought._

"Draco, dear friend, what brings you to my house at this late hour?" Blaise said, standing to greet him in a friendly tone. As if nothing were wrong at the Zabini house, when in fact many things were very wrong.

"Sorry to call so late Blaise, but," Draco was cut off by Blaise holding a hand up to stop his words.

"Dear Merlin Draco, whatever is wrong?" There was real concern in his voice, "You look like hell. Is that...BLOOD on your robes?" Blaise asked, getting a good look at the state of dishevel he was in. Draco looked down at his light gray robes and noticed for the first time that not only was he still in his work robes, but he had blood on them. There in the center of his robes was a small pool of Hermione's dried blood. It only served to encourage him to do what he had gone there to do.

"Yes it is," he said flatly.

"Who's is it? Its surely not yours or Narcissa's, is it?" he sounded truly worried. It amazed Draco that Blaise could be concerned about the wellbeing of a friend's mother but willingly cause harm and suffering to the woman, he had said he loved. Draco looked into the face of his onetime best friend and rage flared behind his eyes, causing Blaise to take a step back.

"Hermione's," was all Draco said. The mask of worry slipped from Blaise's face and split into a grin.

"I wondered where the mud-blood had run off to." Blaise said, walking over to the bar at the other end of the room. Draco was shocked to the core at Blaise's reaction; he stood rooted to the spot, unable to will his body to move. Blind rage coursed through his body.

"I had half expected to find her dead on my floor. Pity"

"Why?" Draco finally said, having found some part of his voice, though really it sounded more like a bullfrog than his actual voice.

"Why what?" Blaise asked, his voice holding a hint of laughter. "Why did I marry a mud-blood? Why did I put my hands on her? Why would I willingly touch someone so far beneath me? Or perhaps you want to know why Hermione? Why I had decided to take something so meek, so vile into my house and treat her as she was meant to be treat. Dear Draco, did your father teach you nothing, mud-bloods don't deserve to be near us, they don't deserve to live, to share our magic, they are scum on the bottom of my shoes." Blaise said taking a drink of some amber liquid.

Draco stuffed his hands in his pocket and looked down at his feet, silently kicking at a spot on the floor. He wanted Blaise to think him weak. To see him not as the threat he truly was, because even though Draco hand his head down and stood in a position of submission, his hand was firmly wrapped around his wand. His eyes surveying the room, though downcast eyes and his ears open as wide as they could for the sounds all around him.

"I'll tell you why Draco, because of YOU!" Blaise shouts, his composure slipping. At the admission, Draco looked up, shocked into speech.

"Me?" he asks in disbelief. This man was his best mate.

"That's right, you. Oh, I will not deny that I enjoyed hearing her cry out in pain, or seeing her bloody on the floor, I would be lying if I did. In fact," he said lowering his voice, "my favorite part was watching her bleed." The look in his eyes scared Draco, it was manic, and deranged and for the first time, he recognized Blaise for what he was, a mad man. "I loved knowing that her pain was because of you. Foolish little mud-blood thought she was saving your life by staying with me."

"What do you mean; she thought she was saving my life? Why did you marry her if you hate her so much?"

"Because Draco, it meant you couldn't have her!" His eyes glinted with craziness.

"Me? Have her?" Draco laughed. He was no fool, he never for a second believed he had a chance with Hermione.

"Did you honestly think that I didn't know about your feelings for the golden trios mud-blood? You're not that good of an actor Draco; you've been in love with her since 3rd year. You may have fooled everyone else, but not me."

"But why Blaise? Why would you go out of your way to hurt me and the girl you knew I loved? You were my best mate!" Blaise laughed a wicked dark laugh that caused the hair on the back of Draco's arms to prickle.

"We are not friends, Draco, don't be so deluded. We stopped be friends when you murdered Pansy"

"Pansy died in the war Blaise, I didn't kill her!" Draco's body was showing signs of defeat, knowing that it truly was his fault that Hermione was suffering this fate. He wanted so badly to collapse in a heap of raw emotions and let them take over his body, but the image of Hermione's broken body stopped him. He would fix what he had messed up. He would see to it that Hermione never hurt like that again. He moved forward ever so slightly, not wanting to spook Blaise, but it was to no avail.

"RISTRICTIS" Blaise yelled, pointing his wand at Draco. Draco found himself locked against the wall. His head and hands were free though the hands were stuck in his robes. Blaise had no reason to believe that Draco was armed. That was his error. Thin white strands held Draco captive to the wall; he looked as though he had been stuck there by a spider.

"Pansy died Draco because you turned traitor and spy. All because you loved that mud-blood bitch. She didn't love you Draco, not then anyway." Blaise smiled, "That changed though, didn't it? All because you saved her precious Harry Potter's life. It's your fault that the love of my life is dead. I had planned to kill you, but really, seeing you suffer was so much better. Knowing that the one you wanted more than anything, couldn't be yours, ever, was the most satisfying reward I could have ever hope to gain. However, torturing her was, oh so much more fun than I had expected. Now, however, you are aware of my little show, so I think I have to kill you both. It will be so much fun to watch the light die from your eyes. And the things I have planned for that little bitch," Blaise sighed, his eyes far away as if seeing something he thought beautiful, "will make you turn in your soon to be grave." Blaise laughed, "To think, she actually thought she was saving your life."

The cogs in Draco's brain clicked into overdrive at Blaise's admission, Hermione had believed that he would be killed if she didn't stay with Blaise. That was why she wouldn't listen to reason when ever Draco tried to get her to leave. She loved him, not Blaise as she had lead everyone to believe. Draco had something to fight for, he wasn't just fighting to save Hermione from the terror she had lived for the last five years, he was fighting for love. Because he loved her more than life, itself and she loved him enough to want to save his life. He would win, because unlike Blaise, he had someone to fight for.

With his hand firmly wrapped around his wand, hidden from view in his pocket, Draco soundlessly released himself from the bindings, the spell slicing through the white sticky strings, and landed firmly on his feet.

"It's not my fault Pansy chose the wrong side to be on, I didn't kill her Blaise, but I will kill you." He said raising his wand.

"Sectemsempra," Blaise yelled and Draco, a second faster, placed a shield charm around him. The spell bounced off the shield and hit the fireplace, creating a giant crack from floor to ceiling.

The spells flew, causing destruction in their wake; however, Draco and Blaise remained untouched. The two had known each other too long and knew very well what the other was planning. They were equally matched in almost every way. The energy used to duel with each other was starting to wear them down; the spells lacked the potencies they typically held. As evenly matched as they were, Draco still had the upper hand, he had a knowledge of Muggle fighting that Blaise did not. He had once heard Ron tell Harry to throw his wand away and punch Draco on the nose, if the wand did not do anything, in preparation for a duel that he had tricked the pair into. In that moment, Draco felt that for the first time ever Ron had some sound advice.

Dropping his wand, Draco apparated to just behind Blaise, Blaise had not been expecting it and when he felt Draco's hands on his face, he froze, eyes wide in shock. Grabbing the dark man's head Draco twisted it to the left as hard as he could. Hearing the sickening crack of bones breaking, Draco's face showed a triumphant smile as he watched the eyes of his onetime best friend go dim. Draco released his grip and watched as the lifeless body of Blaise Zabini fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

The weight of everything that had happened in the last few days hit him like a blugger to the gut, and he fell to the floor and sobbed. He cried for Hermione as her life hung in the balance. He cried for the man he had once considered a brother. He cried for the betrayals he had suffered at the hand of that man. He cried for Pansy and the friends he had lost in the war, on both sides. But mostly he cried because he had just killed someone. Even in the war, he had managed to keep his hands clean, but now, now, he was no better than his father was. Perhaps he was even worse; he had used his bare hands to take a life. He had felt the life leave Blaise as his neck snapped. He had even been happy. He was definitely worse than his father was. Draco cried for a long time, exhaustion setting in and taking over.

When he woke, his head hurt. It took him a few minutes to remember what had happened, the images of Blaise's dead body crashed down upon him and he felt sick. Leaning over the side of the couch, Draco puked. When he sat up from being sick, he was able to recognize that he had somehow come to lay on a fluffy green couch, a couch not belonging to either him or the Zabini's that he was aware of. The couch sat in the middle of what had been the completely destroyed drawing room. The room now however, looked immaculate; no one would have ever known there had been a duel. Draco wondered, briefly if he had imagined killing his best friend.

Standing from the couch he looked around the room, not seeing any sign of a dead body, Draco had to admit he was confused. A little pop behind him alerted him to a new presence.

"Master is awake at last," said the little elf he knew too well. Turning in his spot he saw his and Hermione's elf standing in the doorway. "Pixie is worrying the whole time you is asleep, sir," she squeaked, moving into the room. "Pixie is cleaning up the mess you is making while keeping your promise to Pixie."

"Pixies where is...Have you seen Blaise?" he asked, in what he had hoped was an off handed way. The elf grinned wickedly at his question. Draco took a step back from his elf. He had never in all his years seen an elf look dangerous but Pixie looked down right evil at that moment.

"I is seeing him sir, and I is making sure no one else is ever seeing him again." Draco looked at the elf in shock, her tone was devious, she had done something to Zabini's body. Draco was quite sure he did not want to know what. "Don't you worry about him Master, go see mistress. Pixie is wanting to know how she is." The elf pushed Draco toward the Floo. "Take a shower, change and go see her." Perhaps he was giving the elf a little too much freedom, most elves would not dare touch their masters the way that pixie just had. Though in all honesty, it was a fleeting thought, Draco really did like the elf.

Draco stepped into the floo vowing to by the elf a new wardrobe. He really did owe her a lot.


	4. Chapter 4

Ch4

Harry took over pacing when Draco left, If one of the Healers didn't come out and give them an update soon, he would end up wearing a hole though the floor. His mind was so clouded with worry and confusion. He was worried about Hermione and Draco's confession of love? That had really thrown him for a loop. He had known about Hermione's feelings for Draco, for years. She had confided in him many years ago that she was falling for Draco. She had told him and only him, because she was scared of what he would say. The animosity for Draco ran deep within their circle of friends and she was terrified of how they would take it.

It was mostly Ron's reaction that she was scared of. She knew Harry would be understanding, no matter how much he had hated Draco, he loved Hermione more. If Draco had been the one to make her happy, he would have accepted it. That was what he had told her. She had hugged him and told him she was going to talk to Draco about it. When next he heard, she had told him Draco had laughed at her and wanted nothing to do with her. It was also around the time she had told him that she was marrying Zabini. Harry's confusion grew as he paced back and forth. Harry was left with Malfoy's deceleration, Hermione's words 5 years ago and a nagging in his brain telling him something was amiss.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," a Healer harry didn't know approached them as harry stopped his pacing and watched Ron jump up. The Healers face was somber and worn.

"She's awake and asking for you, but she's sore, very sore, and not all of the bruising has gone away. She took on hell of a beating, I'm afraid."

"Can you tell us what you did for her?" Ron asked speaking for the first time since learning about what happened.

"We gave her a blood replenishing potion, mended the internal trauma, and cleaned and healed the cuts on her skin. It's the healing of the internal trauma that's making her sore, had Mr. Malfoy not been there to place her in stasis, she would have died. Her injuries were vast and extensive. Her ribs were broken and one of them punctured her lung." the doc finished, sagging slightly under the weight of his exhaustion.

Harry felt the wind knock out of him at the doctor's words. Draco Malfoy had saved Hermione's life. The Draco Malfoy, the man that had tormented, ridiculed and teased Hermione, had also been the one to save her life. He really did love her. He had known Draco had changed and left the dark side mid war, but that didn't mean it wasn't weird to consider him an ally. They had fought against each other for far too long.

When Harry and Ron arrived at Hermione's room she was lying in the bed curled into a ball crying. The sight broke Harry's heart. Ron sat in the seat next to the bed while Harry curled up behind her and pulled her to his chest.

"Hermione?" Harry whispered into her hair, he wasn't about to asked how she was, it was stupid and insensitive. He had considered telling her it would be ok, because it was. If Draco didn't kill the bastard, Auror or not, he would. But he didn't want her to know that he was considering murder.

"What happened?" Was what came out instead. Closing his eyes, he could have kicked himself, thankfully Ron had done it for him.

'I...I fell down the stairs," came her weak reply. It was weak in both voice and reasoning.

"Come off it Hermione, the ferret and his elf told us the truth." came Ron's voice. _Ever the compassionate one._ Hermione shot up from Harry's arms, clutching her head in pain as her vision swam before her.

"Dra...Malfoy? You've seen him? Her voice sounded scared.

"Yes Mione, Malfoy brought you here after his elf found you. They told us what Blaise has been doing. Why didn't you come to us mione? You know we would have handled Blaise." Harry had a hard time keeping his voice even. He wanted to yell and tell her how stupid she was. He was so mad at her for staying in a situation like this.

He knew it wasn't her fault but that didn't stop him from being mad. She was the victim, it wasn't her fault that a man, her husband had decided to use her as a bunching bag, but that didn't change the fact that she had been unwilling for 5 years to do or say anything to change it. She stayed and pretended like nothing was wrong. And Malfoy with his confession of love, what a crock of shit. If he had loved her he'd have done more to save her then give her a house elf and heal her wounds. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, a little voice was trying to reason with him, trying to tell him that Malfoy was helping, that because he gave her that elf, her life had been saved. That he was following her request and yet still taking precautions. Harry wanted so badly to be mad at Malfoy, and Hermione for that matter, but he wasn't. He was mad yes, at the situations but not at his best friend and the idiot she loved.

Tears were falling down Hermione's cheeks, how had he not noticed the dead look in her eyes for the last five years? How could he call himself a friend if he hadn't even noticed what was right in front of his face?

"You don't understand, Harry." she said burying her face in his shirt. "Its not what you think." she hiccuped.

"Then explain it, Hermione." Harry said, his voice softer, smoothing down her hair.

Hermione took a deep breath, "where's Draco?"

Ron shrugged "He brought you in two days ago, after his elf had made him promise to kill..."

Hermione's sudden yell stopped the statement.

"WHAT! No, no he can't." her voice was full of panic.

"Give it up Hermione; you can't still love Zabini after he almost killed you!"

"I never loved him Ron!" she snapped, "oh my god Blaise is going to kill him." Hermione was positively terrified. She had abandoned Harry's hold on her and sat head in hands.

She knew that if Draco had gone to confront Blaise, then at least one of them was dead. She hoped with all her heart that it was Blaise, but she Didn't believe herself to be that lucky. She truly believed Blaise could best Draco, simply because the amount of hate Blaise had in his heart, was so much stronger then the hate in Draco's heart. He cared about people too much. Draco was her friend, yes, and he had wanted to protect her, but Blaise had a hatred fueled by the death of love to spur him into murder.

Hermione knew that if Draco were dead, she didn't want to continue living, dramatic, yes but completely true. She had lived five years without her true love; she wasn't going to do it anymore. Unless it was his wish. So she was going to tell Ron and Harry exactly why she was with Blaise. Why she had allowed him to touch her the way he had, consequences be damned.

Ron was standing pacing back and forth, saying something but in Hermione's panic, she missed it, and uncharacteristicly had to ask him to repeat it.

"Hermione," he sighed, "this is Malfoy we are talking about. Seasoned death eater turned traitor, I'm sure he can handle Zabini. And anyway," Ron added, "who cares if Malfoy dies?" Harry smacked him around the head and Hermione looked horror struck. "OI!" he screeched at Harry rubbing his head.

"I do Ron, I love him." Ron stood there, dumbstruck, frozen mid message.

"You WHAT!"

"Ron drop it," harry sighed, "Why did you marry Blaise, if you didn't love him? How did all of this happen?"

"I did it to save his life."

**Flash back**

Hermione stood, arm raised about knock on the door in front of her, when the door flew open.

"Well, if it isn't Draco's mud-blood. You aren't who I was expecting," came the cold voice of Blaise Zabini. "Come in, Draco's not here, we can wait for him together." Hermione hesitated on the threshold; something in the back of her mind told her it was a bad idea to be alone with Blaise. However, her foolish Gryffindor pride told her not to back down in the face of fear.

Holding her head high, she march in past Blaise, like she owned the place. Draco's flat was nice and cozy, she wasn't too shocked to see the dark greens but instead of being mixed with black or silver like she had expected the Slytherin prince to have, the room was filled with soft neutral colors and pops of dark green to brighten up the room. The place was warm and inviting. It gave Hermione hope.

"Finally going to tell Draco how you feel?" Blaise sneered. Hermione froze in her appraisal of the room. "You know he's just going to laugh at you right?"

"What?" Hermione whispered, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. She knew she was taking a huge risk telling Draco about her feelings, but she had to do it. She needed to know if he could maybe feel the same way.

"Draco will never love a mud-blood like you." He said, a light laugh to his voice, "I wonder though, how much do you love him? Would you do anything for him? Save his life perhaps?"

"Yes, I would save his life. He's worth it." she said strongly.

"Interesting," he said, tapping his wand on his chin. "You see, I came here tonight, to kill Draco, but I'm thinking I was a little hasty in my decision."

"Why would you kill Draco? I though you and he were best mates."

"Were, being the key word there. You see, when your best mate, kills the woman you love, you tend to stop being friends."

"Draco never killed anyone!" Hermione shouted, turning to face Blaise.

"Oh but he did Mud-blood; does that change how you feel about him?" Blaise cooed, "he killed Pansy when he turned traitor to the dark lord and sold us out! IT'S HIS FAULT SHE'S GONE!" he roared. "And I'm going to kill him." he said, his voice returning to a eerie calm.

"You can't!" she shouted; fear lacing her words and taking hold of her gut. "It's not his fault Pansy died; she was on the losing side. We all took a risk fighting for what we believed it. It's not his fault she was on the wrong side. I won't let you kill him."

"And what pray tell, would you do, in order to stop me? Kill me? Could the proud and just Gryffindor princess really kill someone?" Blaise simpered. In an instant he had her wand and she was tied to a chair in the living room. "There is only one thing that_ you _could give _me_ that would save Draco." Blaise said a crazed glint in his eye.

"And what it that?" She asked, head held as high as she could, knowing what a dangerous situation she had gotten herself in.

"Why YOU of course," he said in a sweet chirpy voice, "Oh, it's PERFECT!" He said, thinking out loud more than talking to her. "I marry Draco's mud-blood and get to see the pain and suffering on both of their faces every day." Looking back at Hermione, he began, "So tell me mud-blood, do you love Draco enough to give yourself, as a sacrifice, to keep him alive?"

**End Flashback**

"That was the night I told Draco that Blaise and I were getting married, instead of telling him, that I loved him."

Harry and Ron sat dumbstruck after Hermione's story. They wanted to be mad, they really did, but the truth was, if they had been in her position, and had to choose between their life and the life of a loved one, they'd make the same decision she did.

"Foolish Gryffindor bravery," came the smooth silky drawl of Draco Malfoy. "Always looking out for everyone but themselves," he said, standing in the door, ice in his gaze. Hermione knew that look; it was one of anger and disappointment.

"Umm, we'll just..." Harry said standing abruptly as if he'd sat of a sticker bush.

"Yeah," said Ron following Harry, "Glad you're feeling better, we're going to..."

Draco moved out of the door way and Harry and Ron sped past him, leaving Hermione and him alone. He was mad but not at her.

Hermione played with the hem of her blanket, refusing to look at him. Her hair was sleek and smooth with a hint of mess because of the hospital bed. To Draco, she the most beautiful person alive.

"Are you mad?" she asked, her voice small, not taking her eyes off the blanket in front of her.

"Not at you," he shrugged, not daring to move from the wall he had come to rest on.

"Blaise is dead then." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," the admission, barely reaching above a whisper. He didn't want her to be mad at him, but he would never lie to her either.

"The body?" Draco shrugged again, "I'm not sure what Pixie did with it."

Hermione's head snapped up, dark brown eyes met silver for the first time, "You had Pixie dispose of a body?" Hermione was a person that confused Draco. She always had, and probably always would. The murder of her husband, doesn't faze her, but the involvement of a house-elf to cover it up, that got to her.

"Relax, Hermione, I certainly didn't ask her to deal with the body. It takes a lot out of you, ya know, murder. I'm ashamed to admit it, but my energy was sapped and I passed out. When I came to, Pixie was there, the mess was gone and so was the body. I don't know what she did with it, nor do I want to."

"Can they trace it back to you?"

"Nope, didn't use magic."

"How?" she asked curiosity in her voice.

"I'd rather not talk about this. Blaise was a bastard, and I hate him, but he was my best friend for many years. If you must know, with my bare hands." Hermione nodded.

"How muggle of you," she said, a hint of a smile in her voice. She knew she should be sad that a life was lost, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to care. Blaise Zabini was gone, he was never coming back. He could never hurt her or Draco again. Hermione was free. The loss of his life meant the renewal of hers.

"Thank you," she said, grabbing his hand. This man that she loved, had risked his life for her. She loved him more then she had ever thought possible. The love had grown steadily stronger through the years, but in that moment, she felt like her heart was going to burst. She wanted him to know just how much she loved him. And she hoped that maybe he loved her the same. That maybe Blaise was wrong and that Draco could love a Muggleborn.

He placed his free hand on her cheek, "I will always, protect you, Hermione Jean Granger. You showed me how wrong my parent's ways were. You gave me hope when I defied them, betrayed everything I knew. You became my reason to live. You are the reason I switched sides. I have loved you since I was 16 and will never stop loving you." Moving his hand to the nap of her neck, he slowly pulled her closer to him, his head moving agonizingly slow to meet her in the middle.

Hermione held her breath, trying to grasp everything he had just said to her. She was his reason for the switching sides, just as he was her reason for marrying Blaise.

Merlin they really were dumb. Draco's soft smooth lips gently touched her dry chapped ones, her body felt like it had exploded into tiny flames. Shocks of heat cascaded down, settling in her belly. She poured her passion and love into the kiss, trying to tell him what he meant to her. In his embrace, she was safe and comfortable. She felt like she was waking from a nightmare, one that had lasted far too long. Draco's kiss held promises of love and passion and a life of happiness and joy and she desperately wanted that.

They broke apart, needing air to breath, but not wanting to loose contact, their foreheads came to rest together.

"I love you, Draco." Hermione whispered.

"I love you too, Hermione, Always."


End file.
